


She Brings Me Love

by fannyvonfabulus



Series: Bad Company [1]
Category: Jeremy Renner - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, I actually think shes rather lovely, Shame on me, Unrequited Love, deffo NO Sonni bashing here, grautious abuse of Bad Company lyrics, i had a random Renner dream, i should be finishing my other fics, this is basically fluff and angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannyvonfabulus/pseuds/fannyvonfabulus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Add a socially awkward millionaire Londoner to next door neighbour Jeremy Renner, sprinkle liberally with pathetic, unrequited love and you have the recipe for some serious Friend Zone pining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Brings Me Love

**Author's Note:**

> OK, OK, I know what you're thinking. I have a gazillion and one unfinished fics to get done so what am I doing writing another one? I had a dream where the beginning of the fic happened to the rather lovely tune of Bad Company's She Brings Me Love and I wrote it.
> 
> Well, I actually sat down to finish my Stony fic at the weekend but this is what I ended up writing. Stupid brain and plot bunnies. I may write more to this if people want it so do please leave a comment to that effect if you do. Also, it's unbeta'd at the moment so any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the angst.

_She brings me love, love, I know it's all that I need._  

I didn't mean to stumble in on something so personal and intimate, I really didn't.  And I wish I hadn't because now my heart is breaking just that little bit more as I take in the scene.   

 _Sometimes I get a feeling,_  
 _Deep in my soul_  
 _Sometimes I get a feeling,_  
 _I just can't control_  

All I wanted was a beer out the fridge because I was all out. I'dlet myself in the back door like I always do(well, jumpedover the 8 foot garden wall and strolledacross the lawn to the back door like I usually do).  And now I'm stuck inthe doorway from the kitchen to the lounge, utterly transfixed by the sight in front of me.  Jeremy is sprawled on his back on the sofa innothing buta pair of old, worn jeans with little Ava wearing just her nappy lying on his chest asleep while he sings to her.  Her face is allsmushedintoher tiny hands and I don't even like kids but it's adorable.  The pair of them are just...... justheart achinglyadorable.  Jeremy's hair is all mussed and his eyes are impossible adoring and sleepy as he looks down at Ava while he's singing.  And he's singing so softly I almost can't hear him.  She must find it comforting because she's out for the count. 

_Sometimes I get a feeling,_   
_Deep in my heart_   
_It's such a feeling that I know we'll never part_

_She brings me love, love, I know it's all that I need._  

I know I should be leaving, just back up slowly into the kitchen and out the back door but I can't stop watching.  He hasn't noticed me yet so I stay a little longer, greedily drinking in the sight and adding it to the long list of other stolen and cherished moments of things I can't ever have.  I don't want kids, never have done but this moment right here is going on the list anyway.   I don't think I've ever seen him so relaxed and happy and I don't ever want to forget the look of pure and unconditional love on his face right now.  It’s a look of fierce protectiveness, deep and endless love and something proud.  Like he can't quite believe that he helped to create something so perfect and he's so proud of himself.

_Sometimes I get a feeling,_   
_deep in my bones_   
_Sometimes I get a feeling,_   
_won't leave me alone_

_Sometimes I get a feeling,_  
 _Deep in......side_  
 _It's such a feeling that my love I can't hide_  

 _"_ Is hesinging Bad Company to her again?" comes a whisper from behind me and I pat myself on the back for not screaming and jumping 10 feet in the air.  It'sSonniand I swear to god she's part ninja.  No-one will ever be able to sneak up on melike she does.  The last time she did it, Jeremy ended up with smoothie all over his kitchen ceiling. 

 _"_ Yeah, _"_ Is all I can manage to squeakoutas she comes and leans on the other side of the doorframe next to me.  "Is it creepy that I've been standing here for the last 15 minutes watching them? That's creepy isn't it?" 

"A bit, yeah,"Sonnichuckles quietly, not wanting to disturb Jeremy and Ava either.  "But you've been in love with him for....how long now?" 

I go impossibly red at that and turn on my heels to head towards the back door.  Nope. Not having this conversation with the mother of Jeremy's child. 

Again. 

 For the millionth time. 

Not happening.  

 It's bad enough that she managed to see right through me the first time I met her but now she's Ava's mother and living in his house with him and I am so not going there.  I'm just not.  They may not be _together_ , together but they have Ava and I'm not getting in the way of any rekindling of their pastrelationship.  That would just be messy and awkward and I won't be a part of that.  I love them both too much to do that.  Jeremy is my best friend andSonnihas wormed her way into my onto my All TimeFavouritePeoplelist by being one of the funniest and most caring individualsI've ever met.  And she puts up with Jeremy's love ofBrusselssprouts which makes her awesome. 

 _"_ HeyVix, wait,"Sonnicatches up with meand wraps a hand firmly around my bicep to stop me from bolting out the door and over the garden wall to my house. 

"Sonni, I am _NOT_ having this discussion with you _AGAIN_ ," I hiss and try to hank my arm outofher surprisingly firm grip.  “I am _NOT_ in love with him, despite what you keep saying so justdrop it, ok?  I'm just the socially awkward girl who lives next door that looks after his dogs when he's away and steals his beer. We're friends, that's it." 

"Uh-huh...," Andreally, she's _exasperating_.  

"Oh piss off......,"is my terribly mature parting shot as I slip out of the back door and sprint across the lawn to clamber over the wall that divides my property from theirs.  As I amble back across my garden, kicking dog toys out the way as I go, I sigh at how persistentSonnihas been over the past year or so.  And she's not wrong - I _AM_ hopelessly in love with Jeremy.  But then, who wouldn't be?  As I get to my kitchen, Irealisethat I never grabbed any beer and curse loudly to myself as I slump down on achair. 

I should probably explain how I ended up living next door to one Jeremy Lee Renner.  It's quite sickeningly fairytale-esqueactuallyand sometimes, even I can't believeitactually happened. Like so many others, I was a poor, aspiring script writer.  That means thatwasalways convinced that I had an Oscar winning script in me somewhere, I just never did anything about it. Like, actually didn't do anything about it.  Never wrote anything down, just came up with ideas in my head and never did anything with them.  Then finally, after 15 years of playing the lottery, I actually won.  My numbers finally came up, I didn't have to share the jackpot with anyone and I was £20 million better off.  While I decided what to do with it all, it sat gathering interest in a bank account and now I've got almost double that amount.  I toldwhere I was working at the timeto go fuck themselves, packed my bags and headed across the pond to LA to do what countless other people have done - try to write a half decent script and get noticed enough to have someonemakeit into a film. 

That was over 4years ago and I _STILL_ haven't managed to finish anything.  I brought a house that's too big for meup in the Canyons, decorated it like an 8 yearold'scomic book dream,filled my garage with classis muscle cars and brand new motorbikes andgot a couple of dogs: a Corgi named Barton and a Golden Retriever called Steve.  I made friends with all theneighbours, found some cool people to hang out with in town and just enjoyed doing whateverthe fuck I wanted and not having to worry about money. 

I always found it a bit weird that the gorgeous Art Deco house next door to mine never seemed to have anyone in it.  I saw a gardener a couple of times but that was about it.  The first time I snuck over the garden wall was because my curiosity had got the better of me and I had to go and be nosey.  What greeted me was a half landscaped garden and a shell of house.  When I'd peered in the huge floor to ceiling lounge window, the interior was completely empty.  It had beentotallygutted, aside from all the original featuresand just seemed to be waiting for someone to give it some tender loving care.  There was no For Sale signanywhere so I just assumed that someone had bought it and just hadn't got around to doing anything with it other than create a blank canvas to work from.   

And thenthe owner ofthe Lonely House came home for the first time since I'd moved in, so ithad been about 6 months after I'd upped-sticks and moved continents.  I was out on my driveway blasting some AC/DC in a pair of overallsanda filthy white vestwhile I workedon one of my bikes when my absentneighbourstrolled onto my driveway and nearly gave me a fucking heart attack.  I ended up flat on my backside covered in oil after managing to upend a tray of the stuff that I'd just drained from the bike in front of me.  It was all over my face, in my hair and I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. 

"Shit! I'm so fucking sorry..." Jeremy had said looking utterly mortified that he'd manage to startleme so muchI'd thrown engine oil all over myself.  He'd rounded the bike and helped me up, not seeming to care that he was getting himself covered in the stuffas well.   

"The fuck are you doing on my driveway?" Were the first words out of my mouth.  Not the smoothest introduction to one of the world'sleadingacting talents but then I never did have a decent brain-to-mouth filter. 

"I just came to say hi to the newneighbour.  It's cool, I can go..." He let go of my arm and started to back away, holding his hands up in surrender. 

"Fuck, sorry.  That's not what I meant.  That was rude of me, Iapologise," I sighed, wiped my hands on my already filthy vest and extended a hand.  "Hi, I'mVix, your newneighbour." 

Jeremy had grinned at me, stepped forward and taken my hand to shake.  "Hi, I'm Jeremy, theneighbourthat's never here." 

"Yeah, I know who you are," And the fucking word vomit had not stopped trying to escape.  I watched his shoulders slump andhelooked a little defeated. 

"I get that a lot these days." He'd said as he dropped my hand.   That hadn't surprised me. He was really making a name for himself and was already twice Oscar nominated: his star was shining pretty brightbythen.  But he was obviously a very private man and the relatively new found fame seemed to piss him off a little.  I guess it would just take time toget used to. 

"Hey, fancy a beer?" I had offered, wanting to shake off the awkward moment. 

"Sure," He'd shrugged and had followed me into the house. 

Over 4 years down the line and I was most _definitely_ in theFriendzone.  After that first meeting, we'd steadily become firm friends.  He came and hung out in the garage with me, I looked after his dogs when he was away and we both used the garden wall between our 2 properties as a back door.  I kept saying that we should just cut a gap out of the brick work and stick a gate in but Jeremy always said no and that he like the way that vaulting a wall to go see his best friend made him feel like he was 17 all over again.  So the wall had stayed intact.  Didn't stop me propping a ladder up against my side though. 

The pathetic thingis that I've acceptedbeing in theFriendzone.  I've seen the women he's dated(I mean, look atSonnifor fucks sake)and I'm so far down the other end of scale it'slaughable.  I live in ripped jeans and bandt-shirtswhilst they're all high heels and designer clothing.  There'sa permanent layer of engine grease under my chipped and chewed nails whereasthey're all manicured and beautiful.  My idea of a perfect night is beers with friends before a classic B-movie horror marathon, not glamorousHollywood parties.  My hair is currently purple and shaved on one side, not long and flowing and looking like a shampoo advert.  I'm just the dorky girl who livesinthe house next to his,who indulgeshis love of drunken guitar playing and who doesn't mind when he farts in his sleep after he's passed out on my sofawith his face mushed into my thigh.  I'm not a model or an actress or a lead singer.  I'm just me.  Nothing special.  Just a girl from London of got lucky with money and even luckier with who her next doorneighbourturned out to be. 

And I'm OK with that.   

I get to hang out with Jeremy when he's at his most relaxed and unguarded.  I get him when he's covered in brick dust after pulling down walls in his house.  I get him when he's sulking after losing to me at Mario Kart. I get him when he's exhausted and grumpy and so very real.  The fact that I'm hopelessly and deeply in love with him is neither here nor there because at least I get to see the version him that a very small and precious few do.  It doesn't matter what I feel for him or that I torture myself on a daily basis just by seeing him.  He won't ever know because I won't ever tell him.  And as much asSonniwon't drop the subject, I know she won't say anything to him either.  So, I'lljust continue to pine pathetically because my best friend is a world famous, sexy as fuck actor who lives right next door and is shacked up with his baby momma. 

And that's totally fine. 

Because I'd rather have him as my friend than not have him in my life at all.


End file.
